


Elisus

by asteriahs



Series: World: DEFY [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALSO DOUBLE AGENTS, And angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Epic Battles, F/M, Found Families, Hate to Love, Hinny, Romance, Soooo much angst, but if u like spies, dramione - Freeform, gonna be a LOT of death, im warning u now, listen this is a dark af world, never forget the double agents, this is the place for u, xoxo, ya'll better not be shocked with ur fave dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteriahs/pseuds/asteriahs
Summary: The year is 1999. It's been two years since Voldemort made himself well known, slowly but surely gaining control. The Rebellion, previously known as The Order, has been pushed back and forced into the shadows. Yet they still fight, infiltrating, gaining leverage, and gathering sympathizers. Their spies are everywhere, and they're gaining momentum everyday. Their light hasn't gone out, and their hope and fight for the better of the world is their promise to humanity.Hermione Granger, brilliant, overworked, but still hopeful, is a cornerstone for the Rebellion and their missions. Draco Malfoy, pampered prince turned double agent, claims he's only trying to save himself. But in the face of life or death, both become differently people entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Date** : February 11th, 1999  
**Time** : 21:49  
**Location** : Kennith Village - Alleyway  
  


Darkness. That’s where Draco found himself. The concept wasn’t new to him, and strangely he found it somewhat comforting. Even at a young age, Draco knew that darkness meant safety. It meant being hidden. Things born in the dark were never meant to see the light. That included him.

But now, 20 years later, he found himself trapped. Ensnared between his past and his future. Stuck inside a endless cycle of death, destruction, and hatred. Thrust into a war he was barely trying to survive.

Darkness was in his mind, his soul, and coincidentally, this alleyway. He found himself pacing, back and forth, repeatedly checking his watch. He’d been waiting for almost ten minutes for his contact to arrive, some nameless Deatheater soldier. He had been summoned two days ago for a council meeting, and was told they’d be going over newly discovered Rebellion plans.  Of course, these plans would most likely be the forgeries they had recently planted to uncover a mole, but one could never be too sure. Draco was expecting a dull, uneventful meeting with nothing to report back on. Except, of course, what was waiting for his "colleagues" afterwards.

He knew they were gathering right outside a little village called Kennith. But, he also knew that with wards up, he wouldn’t be granted access to just waltz right in. Although with a vague destination, it was enough to give the Rebellion some intel and help plan an attack on the border. Once he was inside the wards, he would activate the tracker. Then, Remus and the rest of the team would be able to hone in on the precise location. The only way to get to the precise location was with the portkey.

He had been to various council meetings before, all boring as well as unnerving, and never in the same location. All he wanted was to complete this mission, do his part, and then maybe, _maybe_ attempt to get some semblance of a good night's sleep. Hell, at this point it didn’t even have to be _good,_ as long as it was something. He’d been up the last few days at ungodly hours going over different plans and strategies for this mission.

Not to mention, any time he even had a chance at sleep he’d been plagued by nightmares of a warm face no longer with him.

He was lost in thought, properly bored, when he heard more so than saw someone creep around the corner and into the alleyway. Wand immediately raised, Draco watched silently from his post in the darkness as they came closer. Only then did he notice the Dark Mark on their arm, not even bothering to have it covered. His heart rose to his throat at the sight of it, and he felt his own begin to sting.

“Draco Malfoy, I’ve been assigned as your portkey.” His voice was light, _young,_ almost as if it was on the brink of cracking.

Draco simply nodded. The man - boy? - extended his marked arm and smiled, a sickly grin bearing his teeth in the moonlight. He reminded Draco of a small pup, growling and desperate to look like a grown wolf. When Draco didn’t mirror his expression, his sneer, one Draco had previously worn on his face countless times before, fell along with his hand. Instead, he cleared his throat, and extended his arm once again.

Draco brought his hand halfway towards the boys before pausing. Typically, the soldier would present a cloth bag, with an enchanted object inside. This soldier had no bag, instead he offered only his marked arm, outreached and expecting.

His heart skipped a beat.

He had heard of this before. It was a twisted sense of security developed by the Deatheaters. A one time use for very high level clearance meetings. Some hopefuls even volunteer for the chance, but most are brainwashed, or have been Imperiused. A living, breathing portkey, in which after being used, the host immediately dies.

The ultimate failsafe.

It made Dracos blood crawl, and the fact he’d have to use one tonight … he didn’t want to think about it.

If it was anyone else, they would have stopped, backed out, refused. But Draco - Draco wasn’t that person. He never would be. He was never brave enough or strong enough to do what was _right._

Unless, of course, it was hidden, in the shadows, aiding a cause while everyone only saw him as a snake.

He stopped reaching towards the boy. His thin, painfully pale fingers were just brushing the mark. Quickly, eyes flitted up to meet another pair, darker, almost black. Quick as a whip he replied with a hopefully believable smile and said “Quite right, thank you for your service.”

The boy nodded eagerly (Draco was now convinced he was a volunteer, there was no glassy look in his empty eyes.) “We have the honor of helping capture some of those scum agents. The downfall of the Rebellion as we know it. It will be my greatest duty to serve the Dark Lord.”  

It felt as if a rock had landed in the pit of Dracos stomach or maybe his heart, if he still had one. He blinked, once, twice, three times, before - “Right, could you give me a moment please?” For just a second, he saw the boys eyebrows furrowed in confusion and then - “ _petrificus totalus!_ ” He fell right on his back, stiff as a board.

Draco slicked back his hair in one swoop, taking a short breath. He knew the team would already be on their way, most likely waiting for his tracker to be activated. He sifted through his brain for something, anything, to get them this message, that they were walking into a complete **_trap._** Normally, like any other member, he’d have one of their messaging coins, but they’d all deemed it too dangerous if it was found on his person. They never accounted for something like this to happen. He’d always been playing two sides, smuggling messages and bits of information with him. He never expected that he could have been **_wrong_** _._ And how foolish he was to think so.

And then it hit him. It was a desperate kind of thought, but he clung to it, gripping it with his cold hands and heart. He raised his wand, never feeling more empty than in that moment, and said “ _expecto patronum!_ ”

He closed his eyes, sifting through his memories (only of which a handful were happy). Never having to perform a Patronus charm before, he was completely at a loss of what to do. He’d seen it done, of course, in war, and also learned in school, but it was something he felt he never needed (or couldn’t do) until now.

Now, it was a matter of life or death.

So he thought of his mother. He thought of her smiling face, her soft hands, and her constant heartbeat. He remembered her reading to him in the garden, of her singing him to sleep, and her overall being _good_. He thought about what she’d say now, how he didn’t know if she’d be proud or not, mostly just worried that her little boy was caught in the middle of it all. As if he ever had a choice.

And like that, it appeared. A dull glow in the dark but still visible, was a butterfly. At first, Draco was in awe, while it wasn’t bright, and flickering in and out, it was there. But then he was confused.

A _butterfly_?

At first he felt as if he should be offended. Him, Draco Malfoy, with a _butterfly_ Patronus. Of all things… he shook his head, still in shock, but there was no time to lose. He knelt down, at a loss for what next, but simply spoke into the fluttering form as he had seen so many others do. “Retreat. It’s a trap, I repeat: Retreat, do not infiltrate.” He wove his wand once more, unsure of who exactly to send it to, but decided on both Remus and McGonagall, just praying (although to who, he wasn’t sure) that it would reach them in time.

With the dimming form flitting away, he stood back up, straightened out his shirt and rose his wand again. He looked at the boy, lying on the ground, eyebrows still furrowed. He took a short breath, and closed his eyes, only for a moment. Then he went over and crouched next to him, the dark mark on his arm still plain as day.

The boy still seemed to have a cruel smile on his face, and Draco looked away, hit by memories of his own, younger, lips curled in a similar way. “Obliviate.” He said, watching as the boy sat up, rubbing his head, looking around confusedly.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You passed out.” Draco deadpanned.

The boy sprung to attention, blinking quickly, and coming to, looking almost embarrassed. He glanced around, and then looked back to Draco, coming to an understanding, not even questioning it. Dracos grip tightened on his wand.

It took a great deal for him to pull back on his aura of haughtiness and self importance. “Well, let’s get to it. You know how busy a mans schedule can be, with wrecking havoc and purifying the Wizarding nation and what not.”

“I’m ready.” The boy said instead, extending his arm out once more.

Draco gave him one more look, and couldn’t help but feel a pain in his chest for a boy, so ready to serve, that didn’t know he had another choice.

Instead, his throat closing, he wrapped his cold hands around the boys dark mark and vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

******Date** : February 11th, 1999  
**Time** : 22:13  
**Location** : Outside Kennith Village 

Hermione loved her job, if you could call it that. Of course, she could do with out the mud, and the blood, and the constant exhaustion. Still, if she could do it all over again she would. 

Growing up, Hermione would always be assisting. She and her mother would volunteer at soup kitchens, made sure they always donated what they had, and never let anyone go hungry as much as they could help it. Her parents had instilled in her the idea that the world was what you made it, and when you see someone in need, you give them a helping hand. 

As a little girl, she didn’t _exactly_ dream this up for her future, but who would have? Endless nights and stolen missives. Not to mention having to rewrite countless mission plans over and over again until it _finally_ came all together. Plus the casualties of war, the lost friends, and the ceaseless ache in her bones were all things she could live without. No, it certainly wasn’t what she had grew up hoping to do.

Still.

She was helping. She _had_ to help. It was apart of her, something she couldn’t quite explain. If she could save just one more person from suffering, it was all worth it. She liked to believe that there was another little girl, out there, with a bleeding heart and eyes full of hope, that would grow up to change the world for the better, more so than she could. If Hermione had to make the sacrifices to allow for that possibility, to make sure _that_ little girl could grow up in a better world … then it wasn’t even a question. 

It was a funny little dream, a small hope that she clung to when she felt everything crumbling down around her. But it was hers, and it never failed to push her through. It let her know she was making a difference, somewhere, in someones life.

But hers? Hermione’s life was non existence. Everything she had went to the Rebellion. Time, devotion, and energy were foreign concepts to her now. Alone time? Forget it. Rest? Not today. But did she complain? Not a bit. 

If she wasn’t going over new battle strategies or decoding Deatheater plans, she was debriefing the field agents on their recent missions, or aiding the healers in the hospital. Her schedule was always full, and she’d be lucky to even eat dinner with her friends at the end of the night. 

But tonight was an anomaly. Normally, she was the brains behind the operation. She’d found her niche in the Tactics and Strategy division, helming operations and conducting from behind the curtain. Not that she _couldn’t_ be a Field Agent (she was quite skilled with a wand thank you very much) but she felt that she was better suited directing instead. It was hard enough sitting back at headquarters just _waiting_ to find out if the team survived each mission. It was another thing entirely to be there, in the middle of it all, and have to see your friend die right next to you. 

She saw that once. She wasn’t going to go through it again. 

Except tonight that’s _exactly_ where Hermione found herself. Stomach down, lying in the mud and freezing her ass off. Terry Boot had come down with an inexplicable case of the measles of all things, and the healers refused to release him. Any other night, a last minute replacement wouldn’t have been terribly hard to find. But naturally, _of course,_ tonight they had come up empty. 

Hermione knew that their dwindling numbers most definitely played a part, and that notion chilled her to the bone. It had been 2 years since The Order had shifted into something more, something _bigger_ than any of them could have predicted. The Rebellion rose when The Order fell, a symbol of hope and safety for all that needed it. Of course then, they had supporters by the thousand, even if silently.

Now…

Now they were still moving forward, even if slower than anticipated. Yet, they were clearly struggling. So what choice did Hermione really have when Remus asked for a volunteer on tonights mission? 

As she lay down on their stakeout hill, wand in hand, in between Remus and Seamus Finnigan, she forced herself to focus on the present. She couldn’t dwell on the past, even though it constantly threatened to engulf her. She could feel it creeping up behind her, a night so much like this one. She could hear a scream, she could feel her heart racing. 

She could see the blood. 

Quickly, Hermione shook her head, readjusting her grip on her wand. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but she could just make out the outline of a few buildings. Their target, and the location of the Deatheaters meeting for tonight. 

She knew this meeting was special. She had helped draft up the plans for this mission. They got their intel from an inside source, one even Hermione didn’t know the identity of. Needless to say, this frustrated Hermione to no extent. She liked knowing things. But Remus had made it clear that the more peoplewho knew their contacts identity, the more likely it would be that they would lose it. So, after about a month or two, she finally stopped asking. If it was good information, it was good information, and they hadn’t gotten a bad tip yet. At the end of the day, Hermione trusted Remus. If he trusted their informant then that was that. 

Suddenly, she heard a sharp snap, the telltale of a witch or wizard apparating. She heard it once, then a few times more. The dark figures landing just feet outside the wards, and only then being allowedto pass through. A few moments later and she could see a light from a wand inside the building in front of her. Not too bright, but there. 

She felt her heart beat kick up. 

Remus shifted next to her, the coin in his hand suddenly pulsing. “Alright.” He said, quietly but loud enough for the other 3 members of the team to hear him as well. “It’s the third house on the right. No sudden movements. We don’t engage until they’re finished. The minute you see them step foot outside of those wards, we blast them. Hit them with everything you got. We don’t want them apparating away.” He turned so he was able to meet everyones gaze. 

“We get one chance at this. They have no idea we’re here. It’s a clean shot.” He gripped his wand tighter, his voice clear. “Aim to stun only. We want _prisoners_ , not casualties. Stay safe, stay hidden. Wait for my mark.”

The team nodded, having been debriefed earlier. Hermione knew the importance of this mission. Inside that building were half a dozen of the top Deatheaters strategists and their aides. Masterminds behind most of the Deatheater’s triumphs and loyal to their Dark Lord only. Terrifying people with terrifying abilities. 

But if they could stun one, just long enough to capture, it could change the path of the war as they knew it. Hermione wasn’t one for torture but at this point, did they really have a choice? They needed all the information they could get, and a hostage wasn’t too bad either. If it could give them even the smallest ofan upper hand, it had to be worth it.

In and out, grab and go. It was easy enough. All they had to do now was wait. 

She could see more figures arrive and enter, adding light with their wands, no doubt greeting each other and giving praise for their latest gruesome accomplishment. Hermione felt sick even thinking about it. She couldn’t stand the idea of being _proud_ for anything of the sort. Destroying lives and ending others? For the sake of what, a maniacal wizard hellbent on ruling the world? It blew her mind completely. 

Still, she took a deep breath, trying her best to turn off her emotions and just sit tight. She tried counting down the minutes in her mind rather than dwell on all they could be discussing inside. _Stick to the mission, step by step, and this will be over before you know it._

Suddenly, she felt the hair on her arm stand up, and felt a shiver down her spine. Cliche as it might be, in exactly that moment she knew something was wrong. Eyes alert, she turned herself around, facing behind her. She couldn’t see much at all in the dark, but down the hill from where the team was posted, she thought she was movement. 

She sat up swiftly, crouching down in a ready position, wand extended. Next to her, Remus rotated to her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What is it?” He asked brusquely, eyes darting rapidly between her and building.

Hermione shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I thought I heard something.” But even then, as she stared into the darkness, she saw nothing. 

Remus gave her a long look, then slid closer towards her. He slowly reached across to gently push her wand down. 

“Hermione I know this is hard for you…” He started. 

She refused to meet his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “It was incredibly brave of you to join us tonight, and I’m grateful. But we are on a mission. We have a plan. We have everything laid out in front of us. They have no idea we’re here, _none._ Our source made sure of it. This will go perfectly.” He gave her a small smile. 

She nodded, pushing wayward curls out of her face. She knew she was more than likely just being paranoid. On high alert. Anyone would be after…

_Nope._ She thought to herself. _Not now._

“In and out.” She muttered under her breath, only Remus able to hear.

He nodded in agreement. “In and out.” 

She let out a breath, and turned back around to face the target. They seemed to be still, hardly moving. Probably reading over their monthly kill count. Hermione shuddered at the idea. 

“How long is this supposed to take?” Asked Seamus impatiently from the left. 

Remus simply shushed him in place of an answer. Seamus huffed in response. 

This actually got somewhat of a chuckle out of Hermione. It felt like old times, being reprimanded as if they were children back in school. But they weren’t children any more. They hadn’t been for a long time. 

Hermione could feel her neck starting to get stiff, and her tired bones were already aching. Being in one position for such a long time wasn’t doing her any favors. But, the downtime did give her a chance to at least _breath_ for once. It’d been so long, jumping from project to project, she had almost forgotten how. Things had to get done, people had to be healed. There was no time to rest when peoples lives were in your hands. 

It was for that reason exactly that she started to feel her eyes fall lower, and her head start to sink towards the ground. She could feel herself start to doze off mostly just exhausted. She didn’t realize what she was doing until she felt someone nudge her right side. Quickly she jolted up, blinking rapidly. 

Remus wore an amused expression. “Someone sleepy?” 

He wasn’t chastising her but Hermione knew how dangerous sleeping on the job could be. She couldn’t help it if she hadn’t had more than 3 hours of sleep the past few days. In fact, after this mission, she wouldn’t mind letting Michael Corner continue to substitute for her in Tactics and Strategy for a bit longer. Just a few hours, so maybe she could catch up on some much needed sleep. 

She gave Remus a sheepish look, and brought herself back up to her elbows, trying to blink the sleep away. She mustn’t have close her eyes for too long, but she couldn’t tell what time it was. Surely, their meeting should be done by now. She was starting to agree with Seamus. 

Even so, she put her wand down for a moment and tried to tackle her hair. It had come somewhat undone in the cold wind, and was haphazardly flying around her face. It was hard to see through her long, curly tresses, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to stun anyone without a clear shot. 

As she pulled her hair back to put it in a band, she heard a soft snap behind her. Instantly, she turned around. She knew she had heard _something_ , but she wasn’t sure exactly what. 

“It’s probably just a rabbit or something.” Seamus whispered to her, eyes still trained on the lit up building. 

“I don’t think so-“

“Or the wind. Or a branch. It’s nothing.” He hurriedly replied, heavily observing the figures who were now moving about the room. 

Hermione wasn’t so sure. 

“Alright, wait for my signal.” Remus said, causing Hermione to turn back around. “Do _not_ let them get away without a prisoner. This is of the upmost importance.” He gave a stern look at the team, who nodded in return.

A moment later, they started to see lights go off in the building. Hermione’s body tensed up in anticipation, just watching the door. They waited, ready to advance.

A few moments passed. There were no longer any lights inside but no bodies exited the building. 

The air was tense and strained. Wands at the ready, the team prepared and waited to attack.

Seamus huffed impatiently. “Ok what’s taking so lo-“

_SNAP._

It came from behind, a distinctive crack that set Hermione on edge in an instant. She spun around, brandishing her wand, only to be met with the paralyzing image of a skull mask. 

“ _AVADA KEDEVRA!_ ” They shouted, and Hermione immediately rolled away to be clear of the spell. Heart racing, she took in her surroundings. Seamus was bleeding beside her, while Remus and the rest of the team were huddled together, firing stunning spells in return. 

“Stupefy!” She sent the spell directly at the nearest Deatheater. She hit her mark, clear and true, and they fell back, tumbling down the hill. 

They were everywhere. They had come up from behind, taking them all by surprise. More than the half dozen from the meeting. At least twenty by now. All cloaked in darkness, all wearing those horrifying masks. 

Hermione wondered if this would be the last thing she ever saw. 

Breathing heavily, she grabbed Seamus by the arm, trying to drag him over the crest of the hill. At least then they’d have some sort of barrier. His shirt was torn and his side shone red. Hermione tried desperately to start a short healing spell, _something_ to stop the seeping blood. But she was cut off too soon by another spell nearly missing her head. 

“We have to get out of here!” She all but shouted to be heard over the noise. Her hand applying pressure on Seamus’s wound, her wand held by the other. She casted whatever came to her mind first, anything to keep them at bay. Desperately scanning around she could somewhat see Remus and the others shrouded in the dark, only being illuminated by the spells cast in either direction. 

“We can’t.” Seamus said, coughing as he struggled to speak. “We have to finish the mission.” 

Hermione shook her head fervently. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a Deatheater come up over the hilll. “ _Stupefy_!” 

She knew they wouldn’t last much longer. They had to go somewhere, anywhere to regroup. She saw another fallen body further down the hill. She couldn’t make out who it was, but her blood ran cold. 

She couldn’t do this.

“ _Remus!_ ” She cried out in his direction, while holding off another enemy coming closer. 

Remus hurriedly glanced her way, panic in his eyes. He took in their surroundings, finally understanding that they were outnumbered. There was no way to complete this mission alive. 

He took a moment to throw back a Deatheater to his right before commanding the rest of the team. “Retreat!” he boomed, holding up his portkey. 

They got the message. As quickly as possible, distraught hands grasped their individual portkeys, and one by one they vanished. Hermione dug in her pocket, and upon feeling the small thimble bundled in cloth, she pulled it out. With shaking fingers, she started to unwrap the object, ready to grasp hold of Seamus as well. 

And then she saw the flash. She heard the cry, and she watched as Remus, all alone, convulsed on the ground. His portkey flew out of his hands and down the hill. No way out. 

It only took her a split second to come to a decision. There was no way, _no way_ she could leave Remus like this. Of course, that’s exactly what he’d want her to do, to save herself and Seamus, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live with herself. 

As frightened and shaken as Hermione was, a newfound rage grew inside her. It propelled her forward, urging her to _fight._ She hadn’t felt this overwhelming _anger_ since the beginning of the war.

“Seamus.” She knelt down beside him. “Do you think you can portkey yourself out?” She hated to even ask.

He gave her a weak smile and nodded. 

Clutching his hands in hers in what almost looked like a prayer, she pressed the small thimble in between them and removed the cloth. In an second, he was gone. 

So she stood, and she turned to face the monsters who had caused so much pain and suffering. They were surrounding Remus now, with only a few bothering to even glance in Hermione’s direction. 

Hands shaking with fury, fear, and what was most likely a great amount of adrenaline, Hermione raised her wand. Cloth in hand, she whispered “Accio.”,and summoned the fallen portkey. 

Then, with the strength she didn’t know she even had, she apparated.

She apparated directly into the circle. 

With a pop, she found herself standing over Remus’s shuddering body, pained and spasming uncontrollably. Her heart fell, but she had no time to loseShe grimaced before immediately reaching down to grab hold of him with one hand, and grasping the portkey with the other. 

Then they were gone. 


End file.
